


I'll Hold You When You Fall

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Post-Armageddon, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-16 04:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19638847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: You'd assume things would be easier and finally moving on between those two once they got the apocalypse out of their way.You'd assume if contrary to all expectations, this doesn't happen, there'd at least be a good reason for it.Nope. For both. It takes another fight and a night under the stars for them to finally get talking. And more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist! It's all this series fault! How is a lover of "opposites attract" and "enemies to friends to lovers" supposed to NOT write at least one short fic about it, especially if the guys in question are such lovable dorks? 
> 
> I apologize to all longterm GO fans. I have just started the book and am not far enough yet to use what it establishes in this fic. This is solely meant as a continuation of the TV series. 
> 
> It's mostly an excuse to put some ideas about and banter between them into words and I hope it's at least half as fun to read as it was to write. 
> 
> Word of warning: Despite the explicit tag it's really just mildly explicit. Everything is mildly about this. 
> 
> Also, I just finished it and gave it only a rough editing/spell checking. I won't have time this weekend to give it a better treatment and I'm too impatient to upload it next week. I'll give it another look then but for now, please forgive me for butchering your lovely language (no sarcasm.) ♥
> 
> Finally, I didn't tag it as much as I think I could, to leave open at least a few small surprises. If you feel that's not a good idea, please let me know and I'll update the tags.

Although humans already had a tendency to misunderstandings with the language at their disposal, they also had a tendency to invent more words, as if more would help them to untangle the mess they made of their already existing vocabulary. But even the one species that takes itself more seriously than the residents of Heaven and Hell deserved to experience the fun of creation now and then. And their limited yet imaginative minds rarely disappointed.

One unknown jester with an impressively vivid imagination and an equally impressive low tolerance for frustration came up with one very simple, yet so descriptive word that it would soon be taken in the mouth by humans of all backgrounds and stages. Metaphorically, of course, otherwise, it would be meaningless.

We're talking about _cockblock_.

The simple, often intentionally employed action to prevent another from having the hoped-for action with a third party. It was not rare to encounter such a situation at, well, parties, but cockblocking happened in all kinds of situations, usually, as it was its nature, whenever it was not desired. The principle was simple. One human, let's call them A, desired the lustful attention of one or more other humans, but for the sake of simplicity, let's call them B. C was not invited by A and oblivious of A's attention and conducts themselves in such a manner, that A's attempts remained fruitless. Cockblocked. Like a condom but 100% effective and minus the pleasure.

The motivations for cockblocking are as diverse as the situations and constellations surrounding it. Often, it was fair to not ill intentions. Often, the cockblocker wants to shield an oblivious or flustered B. And sometimes, it was B, the object of desire, the temptation incarnate, the one so far and yet close enough to fuel the flames of lust, who'd, well, rather not be all that right now.

If this B happened to be an angel, especially one in the shape of a blond human male who was usually easily tempted to all other forms of desire, he'd of course never resort to such a vulgar concept as cockblocking.

Instead, once it was established that the world wouldn't crumble under the destructive forces of Armageddon, Aziraphale quickly mastered a similar art, one as effective and frustrating.

Bookblocking.

“What’s up with this bullshit again, angel?” Crowley said after his forehead hit the hardcover of a book, for the fifth time within the last six days. Not that he was counting.

“What you’re calling bullshit, my dear friend,” Aziraphale ducked away from his friend and continued his path to the counter, “Is the first print of the 1907 edition of-”

“You know that’s not what I meant!” Two long steps and he was behind Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around him. He pressed his face against Aziraphale’s neck. It was a miracle that somebody who was this soft and warm could be so stubborn, and that as an angel! Crowley could tell, he was, after all, kind of an expert.

Aziraphale put the book down and sighed. “I hate to cut our meeting short, Crowley, but I have to get the shop ready for its reopening. There are still four boxes of donations I have to go through and frankly, my dear, you aren’t as much of a help as you promised to be.” With a quick turn and sidestep, he freed himself from Crowley so smoothly that the demon had to wonder who of them was the snake.

He gave a low hiss and declared the battle as lost. Up- and downstairs, the war between demons and angels might have been put on ice. But the small corner bookshop in Soho, London, was a battlefield, as far as Crowley was concerned. Yes, yes, maybe, just maybe, ambushing Aziraphale of all angels to finally get the kiss he felt they deserved wasn’t the most elaborate plan he ever had. He’d think of something smarter later. For now, he contented himself with sitting down on the counter and hopefully crinkling up as many documents as possible with his butt. He let his long legs dangle, not much unlike a pouting child - which he, in a way, was at times, although he wasn’t aware of it. And if he ever were, he’d deny it.

“What this with your grand reopening anyway?” He watched Aziraphale through his dark sunglasses.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked from behind a pile of books he was balancing as he stumbled from one shelf to the other, coming dangerously close to falling over stray books.

“Well, first of all, it was never closed. Or burnt down. Not in the existing reality.”

“There you have it.” Aziraphale slammed another pile of books down, next to Crowley, and glared at the papers that were partly occupied by his friend’s ass. “The humans might have forgotten about it but I haven’t. This is for me.”

Crowley let out a whistle, the corners of his mouth twitching. “How selfish of you.”

Aziraphale indulged him with a smile. He’d become better at detecting sarcasm and teasing. This was another thing Crowley liked him for. Aziraphale had learned and changed in all these centuries they’ve known each other. Something that was hard to do for angels. Fuck, Archangel Gabriel was twice as old as him and Aziraphale together and all that had changed about him was that his fashion sense had become even more boring. Not that your regular citizen of hell was any better but that was beside the point.

“Even an angel is allowed to be a little selfish every other millennium, my dear.” Aziraphale had disappeared behind one of the many cupboards, rummaging through it to find who knew what but his voice was clear as if he was still standing next to Crowley. It didn’t surprise Crowley at all that his superiors had reprimanded Aziraphale repeatedly since he was sent to earth. Mr. Prim and Proper McAngel was frivolous with his usage of miracles. It had become worse - or better, as far as Crowley was concerned, after all, everything that was worse by Heaven’s standard was highly appreciated among his folks - since both their leading departments had decided he and Aziraphale kinda didn’t exist.

“Selfish indeed, yeah,” Crowley muttered, certain that his friend understood him perfectly fine. “Brings me to the second point. You never sell anything!”

“That’s not true! Just last December, I-”

“Yeah, yeah. Every blue moon, you sell the leftovers of your donations and flea market loot. Nothing worthy of a grand reopening. Admit it, angel,” he jumped off the counter and strolled to the shelf Aziraphale was inspecting and casually leaned against it, arms and ankles crossed. “This ain’t no shop. This is an excuse to show off your collection because having all this moldy paper isn’t enough for you. You’re vain, my angel.” His grin widened when a faint blush appeared on Aziraphale’s cheeks and as long as Crowley didn’t ask what it caused, he could decide it was mostly because of the term of endearment and only secondly for pointing out his very un-angelic traits.

“I’m not vain, Crowley.” Aziraphale gave him one of his stern looks that, as so often lately, lingered a moment too long to be free of any not so innocent tension. “I’m just… passionate about my interests.” For a well-read angel like Aziraphale, this was the most unfortunate choice of word he could make. There was nothing wrong with it in general but he was talking to Crowley who was in a mood after his first one got bookblocked only a few moments ago.

“Are you now?” Crowley whirled around and stood firmly in Aziraphale’s way. His fingers closed like a vice around his shoulders, preventing him from slinking away again. “Because I, as your most important interest, have yet to see you being passionate about my presence.” He spat the two words as if the ‘p’s were dissolving his tongue if he didn’t get them over his lips as forcefully as possible. He didn’t speak quick enough, though, they still left a bitter taste.

“Crowley, dear, please.” Aziraphale sighed but didn’t move away, nor did he show any sign of anger. Crowley saw the flicker in his eyes and he knew damn well what it was. You weren’t friends for thousands of years without learning to read the looks your friend gave you, especially if said friend had no control whatsoever over his facial expressions. This damn angel was as into Crowley as Crowley was into him. There was no doubt. And yet, there was no comfort in this knowledge as long as Aziraphale refused to act on it.

“Dear, please,” Crowley wiggled his head from left to right to left as he aped Aziraphale’s words. “Please _what_? What _is_ it, angel?” Crowley let go of him and spread his arms, letting his righteous sense of dramatics flow through him. “And what’s so wrong with _this_? I know you want me, _oh_ yes, you _do_!” He snorted when Aziraphale shook his head. “And here I am. With you, both on this fucking planet. That we saved because _neither_ of us could stand the thought of never hanging out together again. We stopped Arma-fucking- _geddon_ and pissed off Heaven and Hell because we _didn_ _’t_ want to _fight_ each other. Oh, and don’t you _dare_ to say anything about _cr_ _êpes_ now!” he hissed through his teeth, pointing a warning index finger at Aziraphale who, to his credit, took the hint and closed his mouth.

“Really, what is it?” He was beginning to feel deflated. The frustration was all the worse as fighting was the last thing he wanted to do right now. What was there to achieve anyway? He ran his hand through his hair and paced up and down, down and up, with not much regard or respect for the books on the floor. “More time? _That_ _’s_ what you want? I’m cool with that. A few decades more or less don’t make much of a difference after six thousand years!” Oh hell, they did. Every minute did and not just since today. Crowley knew what he felt since Adam and Eve’s departure but he felt what he desired since 1862, St. James Park, exactly when the word ‘fraternizing’ fell.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated his name, ever so softly. “Calm down, please. Isn’t it good as it is?” Crowley snapped around and was back in Aziraphale’s face.

“NO, it is NOT good as it is! Because it’s not what _we_ want! It doesn’t make sense! Start making sense to me, angel, and I might - _might -_ calm down!” Or do it already! Like in the bad movies. All Aziraphale had to do was to get his act together and shut him up with his mouth and kiss Crowley until he calmed down. Or rather, until they could shift the excitement to something more worthwhile.

But as any bad movie would have told Crowley, life wasn’t like bad movies. Sometimes, it was better. And sometimes, it was worse.

“I’m sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed again but under that, his voice was unusually calm and firm. That wasn’t like him. Flustered, giddy, nervous, excited, that was Aziraphale. Calm and firm - that was neither of them, that’s why they got along so well.

“You’re right, I owe you an explanation.” He took a step away from Crowley and reached for his hand, holding them gently. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my friend. But it’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Crowley inhaled sharply, making an honest effort to calm his temper. “And as I said, it’s okay, no need to rush things after all this time.”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hands and stared him directly in the eyes, as if the sunglasses weren’t there. “Things will stay as they are, Crowley. Do you understand? I admit I want to have you around, I admit I appreciate our, well,” he gave him a nervous, twitchy smile, “friendship probably isn’t the right word.”

“ _Probably?!_ ”

“Definitely not the right word. But you and I, we’re not humans. We neither share their, well, desires. Nor do we need them to feel content with our existence.”

Again, for someone as eloquent as the angel Aziraphale, he was really bad with words today.

“ _CONTENT?!_ _”_ Crowley jerked his hands away. “I don’t want to be _content!_ I want to be… be…” He waved his hands around. Passionate. Wild. Ecstatic. Happy. “Not _THIS!_ _”_

“I’m sorry but this is all I offer you. There is nothing I can do if that isn’t enough for you.”

They stared at each other.

Liar.

“Well, I guess there’s not much more to say to someone who lies into my face. Good luck with your reopening.” Crowley spun around, grabbed his phone, and stomped out of the door.

“Crowley…”

“Don’t call me.”

* * *

Aziraphale closed the shop after another delightfully slow day. The opening hours had left only a little chaos here and there, most of it caused by Aziraphale. That was good, straightening out bits of disorder was a guilty pleasure of his and had sweetened many long evenings. Sometimes, when he stroked over the backs of his favorite books or discovered a new treasure he had ignored before, he suspected cleaning up his books was even more wonderful than fine dining in the Ritz.

But neither was as fun as it could be without company. His shoulders dropped and he checked his pocket watch. Not even early in the evening.

In four hours and twenty-three minutes, it’d been three weeks since Crowley thrown the door shut behind him. Not a call, not a suspiciously inconspicuous symbolic sign or message, no demonic presence lurking in the shadows, assuming they were sneaky enough for the angel not to notice.

“Oh dear, I really messed up this time, didn’t I?” He spoke to the book he just picked up. Goethe’s _Faust_. Making a high-pitched yelp, he quickly tossed the book on one of his chairs.

“Sorry, sweetie, you’re the last one I’d ask for advice on this dilemma. Alas, what to do, what to do?” But no rhetorical question could change his mind which he had made up shortly after Crowley had left. It wasn’t like he had a choice, did he? Of course, he didn’t. He was an angel, he didn’t choose between right or wrong, he simply did the right thing.

Like Crowley once said, as an angel, he wasn’t capable of doing wrong. Although, in retrospective, Aziraphale had come to accept that he had been successfully made fun of. It didn’t make a difference. He had proven that he was well capable of doing all kinds of wrong, from being too trusting and too stubborn to distrust when the truth was jumping in his face, swinging a sword at him, figuratively. His last act of stupid - which is its own breed of wrong - he committed almost three weeks ago.

He looked outside, then checked once more his watch. Too soon, still too soon.

* * *

“Showing off all our hard work as yours again, aren’t ya?”

It was indeed a beautiful night. Since the creation of the earth, there had always been nights like this. Warm with a gentle breeze, leaves rustling to remind the listener of the lush cascades of green. The last days had been too warm to smell the earth at night but instead, the comforting scent of dried grass filled the air. Anyone who walked in the sun during the day now felt the heat slowly leaving their skin. The world was full of sensations in a warm summer night, a close comfort that wrapped around the mind like a cozy blanket, heavy enough to not get lost in the cold, distant sky.

Over six thousand years ago, it wasn’t so distant. Crowley had been right there, long before he had been Crowley. Long before he had been Crawley. Before time had come into being, he existed in the darkness and while he didn’t invent light, he had the power to create and to shape it and to release it into the infinity of space, giving those who weren’t endless something to hold on to.

He scoffed. _Crawley._ He suspected they had known who he used to be and delighted in turning what he had been into… _Crawley._ Assholes.

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Speaking about.” Crowley hissed and rolled on his side. Behind his back, he heard Aziraphale huffing as he climbed on top of the wooden platform. It was only a few meters above the ground and not much more than an uneven number of wooden boards nailed together on top of an old tree that had given up on dying a century ago.

“You could have miracled your way up here, you know.” Crowley didn’t turn around when Aziraphale sat down next to him, catching his breath.

“Oh, please, as if a tiny wonky rope ladder were too much for me!”

Crowley bit his tongue. No. He would not chuckle, he would not even smirk at the thought of this always overdressed angel struggling climbing a dumb, ol’ rope ladder in the most ungraceful manner. No, not the smallest snort!

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead, as rudely as he needed to be to not sound happy to see Aziraphale.

“I wanted to see you.” Plain and so to the point that it was obvious that this wasn’t the full answer. But as usual, Mr. Angel was too stubborn to let the cat out of the bag without dancing around it like a madman. And he, Crowley, was considered the occult one, pshaw! Be it as it may, he wasn’t in the mood to play along, Aziraphale could have this dance, all to himself.

Now that he wasn’t looking up into the sky anymore and all he had to stare it were a gnarly tree trunk and branches, Crowley closed his eyes and listened to the night. All he heard was Aziraphale. Breathing, a heartbeat, him fidgeting where he sat.

“I knew I’d find you here. I saw the Bentley and your shoes at the roadside. So, where else should you be at this late hour, with bare feet? Thought I might as well see how you’re doing.”

Did Aziraphale think he’d buy this? That he just happened to be around and saw his car? They were a good hour away from London, off the main road, where the wheat fields ended and the forest began. This fucker knew exactly where to look for him tonight. Crowley swallowed hard. No. He wouldn’t talk to him. So, after six millennia, Aziraphale noticed he liked stargazing, big deal. What did he think he deserved, a cookie?

“I see you’ve overcome your habit of interrupting me, dear. And with such impeccable timing!”

By Satan, Aziraphale had been practicing his sarcasm lately and, with impeccable timing indeed, got it for once right at a moment Crowley needed it the least.

“Why don’t you take the opportunity while it lasts, say what you have to say, and then bugger off?” Crowley snapped. Heavens, he should just turn into a snake and hiss the cold-hearted intruder away. Being the big, bad demon for once. Served Aziraphale right, wouldn’t it?

But it smelled like rain in the distance and the wind freshened and he felt the cold much more in his snake form. Might as well listen before he inconvenienced himself sooner than he had to.

“You’re right. It doesn’t lead us anywhere, beating around the bush like this. Well. Here goes nothing.” Aziraphale took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Crowley glanced over his shoulder, expecting him to stare into the darkness but instead, he caught Aziraphale’s gaze. He turned his eyes back to the tree quickly. He swore he could feel Aziraphale smile, that heavenly bastard.

“I came to apologize. I’m sorry, Anthony. I’ve been foolish and haven’t done right by you.”

Crowley turned on his back and propped up his torso on his arms. There was so much to tease about how Aziraphale made a simple ‘Sorry I treated you like crap’ sound like one of Shakespeare’s early drafts. But it was the sound of his chosen, worldly name coming from Aziraphale that hit his nerves like a blunt guillotine. He had called him Anthony about… how many times was it again, three? Four? Screw his dears and honeys, Aziraphale saying his name was so intimate, they might as well be rolling in the grass, naked.

“Go on,” he said. There was more, so much more, and the longer Aziraphale took to speak, the more important, the heavier it had to be. They weren’t over. Not yet. Heavens, who was he kidding, a ‘sorry, let’s be friends again, meet you for lunch tomorrow?’ from him, and Crowley would ask where. This angel’s damn softness was rubbing off on him!

“I will. I have to. I owe it to you.” Aziraphale gave a small laugh and Crowley wouldn’t need his night vision to see his fine face muscles twitch all over the place. Another long pause followed and Crowley had to do something before he also caught Aziraphale’s nervousness.

“If it makes it easier for you, I’m sorry, too.” He fully sat up, one arm around his knees, and brushed his hair out of his face. “Didn’t want to push you or anything. Was maybe seeing things I wanted to see but that weren’t there, you know. With us being free, no one bothering us, both of us having human bodies and all that…” There was no way in Heaven or Hell that he had imagined the looks Aziraphale had given him, the smirks, the little moments when their hands brushed against each other. But just in case he had been mistaken, just in case… Damn, now he felt like crap.

“Bodies, right. Good. Might as well. Whew! Make everything complicated, they do, don’t they?” Aziraphale flashed a tortured smile at him. Crowley tossed back his head and groaned.

“Out with it already, angel!”

“Yes, yes. Let’s count to three, then I’ll explain everything. One…” True to his word, Aziraphale counted to three and used the few seconds of bought time to turn his eyes away from Crowley. This was going to be interesting and as Crowley couldn’t do much to get him to talk short of beating it out of him - what he’d never do, no how tempting it seemed sometimes, but at least he couldn’t make it harder by staring at him. By the count of three, they were both staring ahead, Aziraphale sitting properly upright, Crowley crouched over his knees, hugging his legs.

“You weren’t wrong or mistaken. And you’re correct about us having, well, bodies. We are an angel and a demon but we aren’t a typical angel and demon. I’ve known that for a long time, too.” Aziraphale’s chatter was too cheerful and Crowley could almost touch the fragments of a prepared speech. But he needed to know where this was going so he remained silent.

“I don’t have to assure you I feel about you the same you do about me. We’ve done so for an incredibly long time. But we never acted on it. Couldn’t. Couldn’t even admit it to ourselves.”

“I did.”

“Of course you did.” Aziraphale smiled and Crowley cursed the lack of sarcasm, the softness hurt more than the sharpest cynicism could. “Anyway,” he continued after a sigh. “I hope you won’t laugh at what I say, but I haven’t cared this way for anyone else. I wasn’t tempted in the slightest to act on any desires with anyone else as the desire wasn’t there. Meanwhile, you… Well. You’re handsome and you walk among humans as one of them, so, naturally… you know.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Now wait a fucking minute.” Crowley jumped to his feet, glowering down at him, pointing at himself. “All this bullshit, the whole fight, your lies, you ripping my fucking heart out was because you have a problem being a virgin while you assume that I, the oh so slutty demon, has whored his way through the centuries? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Aziraphale didn’t show fear at this outburst but his expression changed into a comical mix of shock and guilt.

“Are you saying you didn’t?”

“Oh, screw you!” He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand and turned away. The platform was small and not built to offer a stage to grand emotions, an oversight on Crowley’s part. With two steps, he had reached the trunk, slammed his back against it, and slid down. Arms crossed in front of his chest, he scowled. The nerve! Stupid angel. And no, he’d not stoop so low and title himself with the v-word.

“Never?” Aziraphale followed him and sat down opposite him, so close, Crowley’s legs felt his warmth.

“What do you want to hear?” Crowley barked, Aziraphale’s bewilderment infuriating him as much as the assumption itself. “No, okay? No, no fucking no. Or no fucking, if you really need to hear it. _WHATEVER!_ ”

Aziraphale said nothing. He stared at him. Crowley stared back. The night was very becoming to him. His blond hair glowed white in the moonlight. His kind, soft face, and form grounded him to earth, the intense spark in his eyes belonged to the sky and not for the first time, but now more than anything, Crowley wished he could take him there. That Aziraphale had been there, to witness that he could create, that he was, once had been, truly an angel who was so much more than asking the wrong questions.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked tentatively, startled when Aziraphale suddenly moved on his knees and leaned towards him, reaching for his face.

“Don’t hide them.” His voice was a soft echo from what was good in Heaven. Carefully, he pulled the sunglasses off Crowley’s face, folded them, and they disappeared.

“Wha-”

“They’re beautiful. Don’t hide them when we’re alone.” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek, his thumb gently touching the skin under Crowley’s right eye. Crowley blinked but he couldn’t turn away. Damn this angel, if he misused his powers again, to force him to look at him!

But he knew that wasn’t true. He himself hungered for the warmth of Aziraphale’s smile and the love in his eyes.

Aziraphale’s hand reached for Crowley’s hair, his fingers diving into the dark-red waves. Suddenly, Crowley regretted keeping them short these years.

Then, Aziraphale grabbed the collar of Crowley’s shirt with his free hand, the other still on the back of his head, and pulled him closer.

Crowley’s eyes widened, the yellow iris filling them out, when he felt the angel’s lips on his. Warm, soft. Gentle breath against his skin. The world was Aziraphale as it was all he could see and feel and hear. There was this sweet scent - or was it his taste? - that filled his mouth and nose and made him drunker than wine.

Heaven, or Hell, this was good! Instinctively, Crowley threw his arms around him, his fingers clawing into Aziraphale’s jacket. He was a desperate drunk, on top of his high, and after being parched for six thousand years, he needed more than a fleeting kiss to quench his thirst.

And Aziraphale didn’t stop. He held on to his hair with a forcefulness that surprised Crowley but he didn’t have the time to think about it. He gasped when Aziraphale’s tongue touched his lips and immediately took advantage of it when they parted. The kiss went deeper than anything the movies promised and by Satan, could he feel it in his whole body. He wasn’t new to arousal but this had nothing to do with the unspoken thoughts he had when he was alone in his bed.

His stargazing plateau was by far less comfortable than his bed. The wood was hard and he felt in his back that Aziraphale had pulled him into an unnatural pose, but what did it matter! All he needed was the fire inside of him that Aziraphale kept burning with his kiss which was, despite a faint sense of gentleness that the angel couldn’t shake off if he tried, _hungry._ Greedy. The way Aziraphale held him, controlled the kiss, was voracious, and nothing what Crowley had expected. Aziraphale was humming and coming close to a growl as he did so. This wasn’t what Crowley had dreamed off, and he feared it, and he loved it, delighted how his body reacted to it.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said after breaking off the kiss. Crowley slumped down and would have crashed against the tree behind him if Aziraphale wasn’t still holding him by the collar and gently put him down. “I hope I wasn’t too forward in my actions, dear. Are you okay?”

“Wha- you-” Okay? _Okay?!_ What was this angel, this wonderful, ethereal, tasty creature? An idiot? Crowley looked at him, saw the hopes and worries in Aziraphale’s eyes. What he didn’t see was the plea to be told what he wanted to hear. To be told that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Crowley had long respected him for this and sooner than later, loved him for it.

“Of course I’m okay! But can you answer me one question?” he asked once he regained the control over his jaw back, squinting at Aziraphale and pointing at him with his index.

“Everything. What is it?”

Crowley sat up, putting his arm on his knee for balance, grateful that he didn’t have to stand up.

“Is it just me or did we not just have our first kiss, but _you_ started it?!”

“Well…” Aziraphale exhaled slowly and lowered his eyes for a second but then faced him again. Crowley straightened his back. He was not used to Aziraphale holding Crowley’s stare and whenever he had come close to it, Crowley’s shades protected him from the overwhelming intensity. That was the sole reason why he had begun to also wear them when they were alone after all.

“I suppose I did. Does this bother you?” Aziraphale asked back.

“Shit, no! I just kinda have to wrap my head around the reality of it. I always thought…uh… You know!” He flailed his hands as if that explained everything.

“You always thought it would be you, yes? And what, Anthony J Crowley, led you to that bold assumption?” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

“Huh? No, no, I mean… fuck!” He ruffled his hair. “I can’t even tell if you’re serious or pulling my leg.” Aziraphale chuckled and leaned forward to touch Crowley’s face.

“A bit of both, I admit. I gave you no reason to assume otherwise, especially after our last argument. Yet, I have to say I’m a little peeved you took it for granted that you could be the only one to do this with such certainty. I am a being of love after all.”

“Being an angel makes you a lot of things but not a being of love. But you-” Crowley’s voice broke off. What was he going to tell him, that Aziraphale being Aziraphale made him…? No, that was too much kitsch for a first night.

“I- what?” Aziraphale gave him an amused look and Crowley feared Aziraphale knew quite well what he had almost said. This angel was getting smug.

“Nothing, nothing. Hey, kiss me again?” As he said it, he realized he could have been the one who kissed Aziraphale this time, or told him to do it. He had no idea why he asked him to do it. But he didn’t have much time to wonder as Aziraphale already closed the distance between them.

“All night if you let me,” he breathed against Crowley’s lips but despite the shudder this sent through his body, Crowley suddenly laughed, a sound that surprised Aziraphale enough to back away again.

“If I let you? By Satan, angel!” He stretched his legs and opened his arms as wide as he could.

“I give you a blank check. Do it. Ravish me!”

“You’re such a silly clown.” Aziraphale gasped in mocked exasperation and rolled his eyes. Crowley grinned.

“Not to be the smartass in this duo but isn’t that the purpose of cl-” He was cut short by Aziraphale’s mouth. He growled in the back of his throat. Oh, yes, he could get used to Aziraphale shutting him up like this. The second kiss lacked the sweet surprise of being the first but it was like coming home to something damn good, something that was familiar and yet exciting and worth coming home to every time. Which made it at least as wonderful as that one first kiss, if not better. Crowley was relaxed like he hadn’t been in eons, maybe never since he was forced out of Heaven.

That was the wrong thought at the worst moment. To say he didn’t think of Heaven often would have been a lie but the many times he did, it didn’t affect him much. Oh, sure, sometimes he’d get angry, sometimes annoyed, most of the time, however, he felt resignation. It never made him sad. And yet, a lump formed in his throat and felling Aziraphale tenderly touching his face made it worse than sweeter.

As suddenly as it came it was gone, chased away by new sensations, the prickling of his skin when Aziraphale’s hand moved between the buttons of his shirt. He gasped in surprise. He had thought about it often, from the first touch to falling asleep with his arms around his angel. He had been certain this would happen sooner or later between them.

But this was real and fingertips opening the first two buttons of his shirt and lightly moving over his skin had nothing in common with the very detailed, very explicit daydreams he had made up.

Aziraphale must have sensed the subtle changes in Crowley’s pose. He stopped and sat up.

“Is this okay, dear?”

“Heaven, yes! Don’t waste time asking, keep going!” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and moved it back to his chest. He inhaled slowly, eyes half-closed, as he felt the warmth through his shirt.

“With pleasure.” Aziraphale smiled at him and what he said was true. There was no pun in his words and no naivety of someone who wasn’t aware of the meaning of what he just said. This was how it was with an angel. Crowley had seen how it was between humans and now he didn’t envy them anymore. This was better.

Aziraphale gently pressed his thumb against Crowley’s bottom lip, gently stroking it.

“But I must insist that you inform me when anything I might do doesn’t meet your approval.”

“Yeah, sure, like that would happen.” He teasingly snapped at the thumb but Aziraphale was quick enough to remove it in time.

“I’m not joking, Crowley. Lying to me in this situation would be one betrayal I wouldn’t forgive.”

Crowley caught Aziraphale’s hand and brushed a kiss on its back. “I know. But is a promise from a demon good enough for you?”

“Not any demon. Yours is.”

Crowley hissed in frustration. Of course, Aziraphale could say the cheesiest things without sounding cheesy. Crowley had long learned that not only the world, but the universe wasn’t fair but it was still a surprise in which weird ways the fact would manifest.

Aziraphale shook his head but smiled and proceeded to open Crowley’s shirt, one button after the other, so smoothly Crowley suspected that once again, Aziraphale was using his powers for the truly important things in life - the little ones.

The open shirt slid off, his chest rising in the light of the moon and stars, the mild nightly breeze cooling his skin.

“Oh!”

“Oh?” Crowley opened his eyes, now realizing he had closed them, and followed Aziraphale’s astonished gaze. “Oh,” he echoed flatly. “Don’t like it?”

“I do, very much so, but I didn’t expect it.” Aziraphale’s fingers carefully touched the silver piercing of his right nipple, causing another shudder to claim Crowley’s body.

“What can I say, all these years and I’m still full of surprises.” Crowley forced his voice to sound far cockier than he felt.

“I can’t argue that.” Aziraphale smiled, his fingers brushing again over the harmless looking piece of metal, subjecting Crowley to another wave of that exciting, tingling sensation. “But why only one?”

“Huh? Dunno.” Crowley shrugged, he had other things on his mind than coming up with a fun story about his existing piercing and the lack of another. “Got it in the 1990s after a few rounds of poker with some buddies.” And after some drinks. The world was always full of good ideas after some drinks but unfortunately, many of those ideas had a habit of sobering him up quickly as soon as he put them into practice. But Aziraphale didn’t need to know that part.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said instead with a grin he was convinced looked very seductive.

“Very. But it’s not complete.” Aziraphale moved his hand over Crowley’s chest.

“What do you- AH!” A sharp pain shot through his other nipple, followed by the feeling of the tender flesh being burnt off. Crowley sat straight, panting and trembling. He looked at his chest and indeed - a second piercing, identical to the first, aside from the flaming red skin around it.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t symmetrical. I had to do something!”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale who looked just apologetic enough but not very sorry.

“You... Demon!” The moment he said it, Crowley couldn’t help laughing. This was the weirdest, best night and he couldn’t make sense of it at all.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale repeated and kissed him, as if a kiss had the power to make any of this any better! Crowley sighed. Of course, it had that power and it got the help of caring fingers playing with the older piercing. The pain was still there, and he hated it as much as the first time but it made the other touches feel so much better.

He felt Aziraphale’s weight against him and slowly, he was pushed back, until he was leaning against the tree again. Then there was Aziraphale’s other hand. It touched his chest, was dangerously close to his hurting nipple. Crowley tensed but relaxed when it moved over his flat stomach. He tensed again when it didn’t stop there. Oh Satan, they were really doing this, weren’t they?

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale asked with this kind, caring voice that drove Crowley mad sometimes. It did now but for all the good reasons. And it turned into the most beautiful music when the hand covered the hard bulge in his pants. “I can remove it if you want and it’ll be like it never happened.”

“Angel, I never felt better. Do your thing.” A bold thing to say, given that he had no idea what to do with his own hands. His hands again clawed into Aziraphale’s jacket with so much force, his fingers hurt when he let go to touch Aziraphale’s face. He looked into the angel’s eye, seeing the reflection of his serpent ones. He wasn’t self-conscious but he saw that he’d never match Aziraphale’s beauty. But he took the chance to kiss him.

The kiss lasted only a moment, it was one sensation too much and he feared he’d explode if he wasn’t careful.

“Tell me, my angel.” His voice was hoarse and foreign in his own ears. “What about you? What’s the thing I can do for you?” He couldn’t believe he asked this. In his dreams, it had always been him who knew exactly what to do. Screw dreams. Useless, that’s what they were!

“For me?” Aziraphale smiled, the pressure from his hand becoming stronger. “So, you really want to know?”

Crowley furrowed his brows. “What kind of question is that, of course, I do!”

“Well then. Come here.” The angel still smiled and like under a spell, Crowley sat up. Aziraphale’s arm moved behind his back, holding him as he pulled Crowley closer to him until he sat between Aziraphale’s legs, leaning against Aziraphale’s chest with his left side.

“There is one thing you can do for me.” Aziraphale’s voice echoed and Crowley wasn’t sure anymore if the angel really said anything or if he felt the words in his head. “Stop thinking and be loved. Can you do that for me?”

Crowley’s jaw moved but he was speechless as he tried to process the meaning of the words. In the end, he couldn’t grasp them but he felt them.

“I think I can,” he finally managed to whisper.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale kissed him again as if this had become his way of soothing the demon in his arms and taking all the will to fight and banter from him. Crowley put his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, holding on for his dear life but deep down he knew if he let go, Aziraphale would hold him.

Then, a strange prickling came over him and he felt his clothes dissolving. He shivered. He was lying naked in Aziraphale’s arm, leaning against his body. The fabric of Aziraphale’s suit was rough against his skin and the newly pierced nipple hurt whenever it brushed against Aziraphale’s shirt.

But there was also Aziraphale’s hand holding him. It was warm and strong, stronger than Crowley ever expected from him. There was a strange, new feeling. It was like fear but he wasn’t afraid. Like had to hide but didn’t want to go anywhere. That he was in danger but wasn’t.

Vulnerable.

That had to be it. He remembered one time he felt similar. After his fall, when his powers and body changed and all he could do was lay there and let it happen. But this wasn’t scary and bitter. This was sweet. This was Aziraphale’s lips on him, the taste of his tongue and his hands holding him. He was cold but hot where the angel touched him. He was hard and aching for another touch but he wouldn’t give this up for anything for the world, even not the world itself.

“Aziraphale…” he breathed when they both gasped for air at the same time. He pulled up his legs as if to curl up on Aziraphale’s lap.

“I know.” Aziraphale gave him a quick kiss, a mere brush against his lips, and put a hand on Crowley’s legs, pushing them down gently until Crowley unfolded them again. They looked at each other, Crowley hoping and fearing that Aziraphale could read what he wanted to say in his eyes while searching Aziraphale’s for the answers.

Loved.

He felt loved.

And while he was still searching for a way to put it in words, Aziraphale’s hand closed around his hard cock.

An inhuman growl left Crowley’s throat. He tossed back his head, his eyes seeing nothing but the stars in the sky above them.

“Ffffuck…” he groaned, or at least he thought he did. The noises he made were reduced to growls and hisses when Aziraphale’s hand moved. The firm but gentle strokes were so slow it was torture.

“Azzzzz…!” Crowley squirmed. His right arm slipped from Aziraphale’s neck and hang uselessly by his side. He’d have fallen but Aziraphale held him tightly.

“I’m here.”

He knew, oh Heaven, did he knew that.

Crowley didn’t last long this night. Despite his best efforts to keep it slow, it took Aziraphale only a few minutes. The wiggly demon in his arm did his best to make it difficult for him to control the pace but that was okay.

Crowley was always handsome but tonight, he was beautiful. His skin shimmered in the moonlight almost as if it was covered in scales and even the night couldn’t conceal the rich red of his hair. Aziraphale smiled wistfully. There wasn’t a day he didn’t miss Crowley’s long, beautiful curls. But he was happy with whatever made Crowley happy.

Crowley, always one step ahead, the cunning trickster who fooled Hell and Heaven alike. Aziraphale had never seen him this helpless as he was looking up to him with those fascinating eyes of his, lips slightly parted as he panted. And all it took was a little more of this.

He tightened his grip around Crowley’s cock, which was as beautiful as the rest of him. He was rewarded with another throaty growl. A hand shot up and grabbed for his lapel. But Crowley’s fingers were trembling, he struggled to get a hold. Aziraphale pulled him closer until Crowley’s head was resting against his shoulder.

He regretted that he couldn’t watch the expression on his face and in his eyes. But he felt Crowley breathing against his throat which was delicious in its own right. Really, he almost regretted that tonight would remain short. But there was always a next time and the anticipation was almost as exciting as doing what he had wanted to do for so long. Now that they were allowed to _want_ and to _do._

Crowley shuddered. Aziraphale tilted his head until their cheeks touched. He heard a sharp hiss, followed by a whimper. Ah, right. The piercing. It was pressing against the seam of his jacket’s breast pocket. That a little pain could have this much of an effect… how long would it take for Crowley to forget about it and replace the last bit of discomfort with lust?

No, he couldn’t be that selfish. It was time to have mercy with this wonderful being and release him from this fascinating spell that wasn’t magic or a miracle at all but might as well be.

Almost unwillingly, he increased the pacing of his strokes. The effect was immediate. Crowley had already been so hard when he was still in his pants, it had looked painful. Now, the cock seemed to grow even more in his hand, just from moving a little faster. Crowley groaned and sank his teeth into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. He almost felt sorry when all Crowley could clench his jaw around was the fabric of his neckerchief.

His fingers were feeling damp as his grip slipped over the nicely shaped head of Crowley’s dick. And that was the end.

Crowley moaned, tearing a piece of fabric off the scarf. His back arched and his long legs twitched and kicked out. Aziraphale had to hold on tightly to save Crowley from sliding out of his embrace. His hand was wet and sticky by the time Crowley’s body calmed down.

Crowley opened his eyes, staring blankly at the sky. The features of his face hardened.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said too fiercely for his voice to be a whisper. Crowley blinked a few times and turned his head to look at him. His face softened again.

“I… You know I do.” The sass was already returning to him. Which was good as Aziraphale loved him for whom he was. Which was a little sad as he also loved the Crowley he had seen for the first time tonight. Soft, and trusting enough to allow himself to be vulnerable. And Crowley still trusted him as he was leaning limply on Aziraphale’s arm instead of sitting up.

“You’re an angel of many talents, aren’t you? Where did you learn all this?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Crowley to feel chatty so soon. Well, at least this question was easy to answer.

“My dear Crowley, you’d be surprised by how much inspiration is hidden between the pages of books, if you decided to read a few.” It took only a minor miracle to clean his hand so he could touch Crowley’s face. So handsome. There was no way God didn’t know what she did when she chiseled this face when she created him.

“Really?” Only Crowley could put a good helping of teasing in one word of surprise. “I never found anything _this_ inspiring the books I read and I am the one with a filthy mind. Or at least I thought so.” Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale’s. It was colder than his.

“Naturally, as a collector, I have a section with, let’s say, specific works. You can’t avoid it if you’re a researcher.”

“Of course not. Damn, nobody in Heaven and Hell would believe me that.” Crowley suddenly laughed and Aziraphale held his breath. For the fragment of a second, he saw what Crowley must have looked like when he was still an angel. “I got myself a kinky angel!” Crowley added with a grin that was far from serene.

“I wouldn’t call it _that._ ” Aziraphale shrugged. “But I assume it doesn’t matter how I call it. As long as you feel good.”

“Oh, I do, believe me, I do. Despite your little prank.” His tongue flickered between his lips as he hissed. He put a hand on his chest, careful to not touch his hurting nipple. Then, his face changed as if he had come to a sudden realization. Aziraphale tried to smile but was well aware that his face was not capable of not looking guilty when he absolutely was.

“You’re an angel, dammit! You could have done this without causing any pain!”

“I suppose…”

“And if I gave you the benefit of the doubt for only one moment and believed you just didn’t think of that, you could have easily healed it by just looking at it!”

“Well, not exactly just by looking… I’m sorry, dear.” He was defeated. Granted, Crowley looked more shocked that he would do something like this than angry but the fact that he caused him pain deliberately remained.

“It’s okay, could have told you to undo it, or undo it myself. Just surprised, that’s all. Strange night, isn’t it?” Crowley rested his head against Aziraphale’s chest. “And I thought it was over. That this would never happen. And I didn’t think it’d be like that.”

So Aziraphale’s impression had been correct, Crowley was unusually chatty and he could sense it wasn’t just the intimate moment they shared that loosened his tongue. He knew his demon, he was desperately trying to hide something.

“Are you okay, beloved?” He held him close and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I.” But Crowley had hesitated too long and Aziraphale knew he was lying.

“I’m not sure. Are you hurting? Isn’t the physical pain strong enough anymore to pull you out of it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Crowley raised his voice, his body suddenly tense. He pulled up his legs and this time, Aziraphale let him. Crowley curled up in his arms. Aziraphale slowly stroke over his back. This had to happen. He’d expected it.

“I love you.”

“Stop!” Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I’d stand up to Heaven and Hell all over again for you if I had to.”

“I told you to shut up!” Crowley’s yells were muffled by Aziraphale’s jacket.

“Don’t take me for a fool, Crowley.” He was holding him like a child. “I know what you’re going through when you come here. You long for your stars. I can feel the bitterness that rises whenever you get too scared to feel truly happy.”

“Shut up, Aziraphale!” Crowley’s arms were around his neck, clinging on tightly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Aziraphale smiled and his white wings unfolded from his back, glowing brightly in the night. “Remember the thing I asked you to do for me? I’ll do everything in my power to remind you that you’re loved. As long as you let me.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always do, beloved. But you and I know you already made it.” He wrapped his wings around them, their warmth flowing over Crowley’s skin where they touched him, warming him. Yet, Aziraphale still felt him trembling but he didn’t say anything. He had said what he had to say and what Crowley needed to hear and he’d repeat it over and over again, as often as Crowley needed to hear it.

“I’m _not_ crying, by the way. Don’t get any ideas!” Crowley broke the silence after a while. Aziraphale stifled a laugh.

“If you say so.”

“And I love you, too,” Crowley sputtered so quickly, the words almost weren’t intelligible.

“I know. And I promise you, whenever we do what we did tonight, I’ll be there to hold you.” To add weight to his promise, Aziraphale hugged him as tightly as he could, with his arms and with his wings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crowley’s voice broke off. He returned to hug but it would take a while until he dared to look at Aziraphale again. Aziraphale accepted that. He’d wait and hold him until Crowley steadied himself. It was the least he could do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before he allowed the silence to settle between them.

 _I_ _’m sorry, for having to make you feel what you need to feel. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to catch and hold you the first time you fell._

But he would be there from now on. The love and lust between that that they were just beginning to uncover, he could only delight in it as long as he knew he could protect this one fallen angel from himself and keep him safe. And if his love raised the wrath of Heaven, so be it.


End file.
